Naruko
by LordBoogersnatcher
Summary: Before her birth, a man known as the 4th Hokage sealed a demon inside Naruko. The people hated and feared her, terrified of what she could become. Despite this, Naruko has but one goal: To become Hokage.
1. Prologue

**Premise of the story is to replace Naruto with Naruko.**

**The skeleton of the story (and its cast of characters) will remain the same. People aren't suddenly not born because Naruto wasn't born a boy.**

**However, for the sake of the story, significant differences will exist. It'd be no fun if the story was still basically the same.**

**The plan is to update this as often as I can. Early chapters might be a little too familiar, but as we move along the stories will grow apart. Bear with me.**

**Enjoy. ~LordBoogersnatcher**

* * *

_Twelve years ago, a nine tailed demon fox appeared. It was nothing less than a natural disaster, capable of causing tsunamis with a single tail. One brave shinobi was able to seal the demon, but gave up his life in the process. That shinobi was called the Fourth Hokage._

* * *

She inched to the edge slowly. From this altitude, the wind billowed around her, whipping her waist-length red hair haphazardly around her body.

She would never admit it, but there was something unsettling about being this high off the ground. Below her, she could see Konoha in its entirety, bustling with mid-morning activity. Vendors called out their wares, people mingled and visited with one another, and, if one looked closely enough, the roofs were littered with blurs of movement, distorting evenly tiled roofs, as shinobi crisscrossed the village with a deft sort of nimbleness that made her broil with envy.

She'd be one of them someday.

But for now, she smoothed out her bright orange tracksuit, the sleeves of which were cut off at the elbows and the shoulders colored a deep blue. She grabbed at her wild hair, wrestled it under control and quickly tied it into a ponytail in an obviously practiced motion. She always tied her hair up when she was ready for action.

One last look over the edge. One more breath. One final step forward.

And she fell.

Any fear she had was instantly forgotten. All that was left was the thrill, the rush, her heart singing as her body dropped in complete freefall. She grit her teeth, preparing for the inevitable -

"OOMPH!" She wheezed in pain as the rope around her waist went taught, catching her. That would undoubtedly bruise. Quickly, before all momentum was lost, she swung herself towards the cliffside and began her dance. Side to side, up and down, she used her feet again and again to propel herself towards her next destination. She was faintly aware of the buzz of a crowd forming below her, but she continued without heeding them. Her work wasn't finished.

Her waist was sore. The rope was cutting into her stomach, and she sorely wished she'd worn some kind of protective padding. _Something to remember for next time_, she thought, wincing.

A couple more strokes of the brush and she was finished. She kicked off the mountain and propelled herself backwards to admire her work. The now empty paint can let out satisfied applause from her left hand as it bumped against her leg.

It was perfect.

Naruko couldn't help it. She let out a laugh and turned to face the crowd below her.

"WAHAHAHAHA! I'M INCREDIBLE!"

* * *

There were days that made Hiruzen Sarutobi feel every one of his sixty-eight years.

This was one of those days.

Hiruzen sighed. He supposed, in a way, the girl's tenacity was to be admired.

On the other hand…

"You'll pay for this!"

"Get down from there!"

"What the hell is wrong with her?! Someone cut her down!"

He heaved another heavy sigh. The mob of villagers around him was oblivious to his presence.

The boisterous redhead that held their attention, Naruko, hung precariously from the top of the Hokage monument with rope tied around her waist (She didn't steal that much rope, did she? Surely someone would notice that length of rope missing). Her curiously whiskered cheeks, three faint scars along each side of her face, were stretched with a proud, toothy grin.

The Hokage monument itself was, to him, both a work of art and a symbol, a cliffside from which the four Hokage of past and present watched over the village, forever etched in stone. His own (albeit much younger looking) face was among them. The third Hokage.

_And the current Hokage._ He grimaced, a familiar, upset pang hitting his stomach as he looked up at the face of the Fourth.

Fierce. Confident. Bold.

A giant trail of paint hanging from his left nostril.

Sigh.

"Forgive me, Hokage-sama. This is my fault."

Hiruzen turned to his right at the heavily breathing man perched on the viewing rail. "Don't be silly, Iruka."

Obviously embarrassed, Iruka absentmindedly rubbed a finger over the long scar that ran across the bridge of his nose. "I don't know how she got out of class," he admitted. "But I'll handle this."

Hiruzen took a second to marvel at the young teacher's growth. He'd raised and taught many shinobi during his long (too long) tenure as Hokage, and Iruka was no exception. His hair was tied up in the same, characteristic ponytail he'd had as a child. He wore his shinobi uniform, a military flak jacket coupled with a forehead protector adorned with the identifying leaf symbol of Konoha, with the pride and propriety of a model soldier. His temperament was the stiff one of a teacher. Not that it'd always been, Hiruzen mused. There was a reason he'd placed the girl in this man's capable care.

"Do what you need to do, Iruka."

Iruka nodded, his face red, and turned towards his student, who was now animatedly swinging her arms and legs while she shouted down at her audience, vigorously returning every insult with one of her own. He too started yelling, adding his voice to the crowd's. Hiruzen watched as Naruko instantly picked out Iruka's familiar voice and noticeably panicked. She dropped her can of paint (fortunately empty) which narrowly missed a member of the outraged mob. Iruka turned to the villagers next, charged with the unenviable responsibility of appeasing and dispersing the crowd.

A fourth sigh. _He has it under control._ Hiruzen turned to walk away, but stopped and turned around to look at his own likeness.

Streams of paint from both nostrils and both eyes, one of which was blotted out with paint. A skull on one cheek and a swirl of paint on the other. A pile of dung on the forehead, and what he assumed was drool coming from the lip.

There was a part of him that almost impressed.

He'd let Iruka handle his student for now, but made a mental note to talk to the man later about the girl. Not such a big deal, from the proper perspective.

_Any day where my biggest problem is 12-year old vandal is a good day. _


	2. The Failure

_In the heat of the moment, we deemed it necessary. So many were lost that night, the Fourth included… the demon was still fresh in all our minds, as was the anguish, the fear. If we as a village could not hold such a burden, how could we ask a child to do the same? The burden was unfathomable. So I agreed with Homura's plan. This way, I believed, she would grow up without bearing such a weight on her shoulders._

_But she ended up carrying it nonetheless. I failed her. I failed them both._

_-Taken from the journal of Sarutobi Hiruzen, Third Hokage_

* * *

Naruko sat in the back of the classroom, gingerly rubbing her shoulders. She was _sore_. Iruka had ordered her to wash off the paint from the faces of those old geezers which, as it turned out, took a whole lot longer to take off than it did to put on (and was a whole lot harder to boot). Not only that, but her stomach had a nasty-looking, purple bruise running around it that ached each time she took a breath.

Bah. It'd been worth it. Next time she'd rig two ropes and tie herself a harness to hang from properly. She'd paint a whole stinkin' rainbow on that old geezer's face. People wouldn't have a choice but to admit that she, Naruko, was amazing.

The classroom itself was relatively simple: A set of ascending wooden tables with stairs on either side, opposite a simple chalkboard at the front of the room. It didn't need much more than that. The Shinobi Academy was as much about practice as theory, and accordingly, there was an accommodating open area right outside the window with lines of targets and practice dummies, along with various obstacle courses and sparring rings.

The classroom was for history, philosophy and, much to her chagrin, basic principles of ninjutsu.

Taijutsu she loved. What's not to get? You punch them, they punch you, and you keep punching till one of you doesn't get back up again. People tended to underestimate her because she was a girl. All the better for her; blood and bruises weren't enough to slow her down. Her grades in kunai marksmanship were among the best in the class, and she was practicing everyday to improve.

Ninjutsu on the other hand. She never felt right using ninjutsu.

She understood how it was _supposed_ to work. Form the proper seals, think really hard, (_"Are you even listening Naruko?! Physical and spiritual energies! Don't just 'think hard,' focus!" Yeah, yeah, I get it Iruka, just watch_) and then mold the chakra the right way. Steps one and two weren't so hard. Her seals were a little sloppy, but she'd finally gotten them all memorized last year, and thinking hard wasn't so bad when she really felt like it.

It was the final step that always, always gave her trouble. Things started off well enough, but it always seemed to just slip through her fingers. It was like… it was like trying to wrestle down and shape a balloon, only the balloon's covered with grease and some little punk is blowing more air into it. Frustrating beyond belief.

She was pretty sure there other kinds of jutsu, but her mind tended to go fuzzy when Iruka started lecturing.

Like now. Iruka was talking about something or another. Or was he? It looked like he was inviting someone into the room. A teacher, Naruko realized. Mizuki. He taught the other class. He was wheeling in a table with-

She sat up, suddenly alert. A table of glistening, beautiful, sparkling, magnificent forehead protectors, each artfully adorned with Konohagakure's spiral leaf symbol. Today was the graduation exam.

"Gah! I didn't study!"

"Naruko!"

Oop. Was that out loud?

Her classmates sniggered around her. Naruko lowered her head, abashed, her cheeks burning.

Iruka gave her the stink eye before resuming. "As I was saying, in order to properly test what you all have learned over the past few years, we," Iruka paused to point at Mizuki, "want to see a successful Bunshin no Jutsu."

Oh no. Oh no no. Of all the jutsu they'd been taught, the Bunshin jutsu was by far the most difficult. She could barely use chakra to change her _own_ physical appearance, much less recreate an entirely separate human being capable of walking and talking.

"If you pass," Iruka continued, oblivious to Naruko's sudden deathly pallor, "you'll officially be given the rank of Genin and, as proof of that rank, will be given one of these forehead protectors." Iruka picked one up and waved it around. Naruko's eyes followed it hungrily. Getting that forehead protector was step one to becoming Hokage. "We'll call you into the next room, one by one. Good luck to all of you."

Immediately, the class jumbled together in their set cliques whispering, gossiping, their excited and nervous tones filling the classroom.

Naruko found herself alone (as usual), nauseous, her mind and stomach racing each other in panic. Was this really happening? Her destiny was going to come down to the one thing she _couldn't_ do?

Conversations started growing around her. Some of the more confident, ever-bold Kiba among them, his loyal puppy Akamaru perched on his head, were loudly patting themselves on the back and even procuring clones with ease. She hated them. Some of the confident but pretending-not-to-be-confident, like demure, pink-haired Sakura, were moaning about how _worried_ they were, trying to draw sympathy from their infinitely-more worried, less confident peers.

Naruko hated them more.

The legitimately worried people were quiet, sharing Naruko's slightly depressed look.

One by one, students marched out of the classroom, tense. But, much to her surprise, one by one, they bounced back in, with their forehead protectors worn proudly.

Was this really happening? _No one_ was failing? Naruko felt a little hopeful as she watched lazy Shikamaru walk out with a headband of his own casually hanging limp from his hand as he futilely attempted to hide a proud grin. She'd never seen Shikamaru do _anything_ in class, much less produce a full-fledged clone. Maybe 'ol Iruka had gotten that stick out of his ass and was being a little lenient. Or, more likely, Mizuki was the one passing them. That had to be it.

She had a chance! As long as she could just produce something… anything…

"Uzumaki Naruko."

Did the class suddenly go quiet? She was suddenly acutely aware of aware sound, every set of eyes looking her way. The bruise on her stomach flared up painfully as she slowly made her way down to the front of the class and out the door. Naruko tuned them all out. She had to focus. How did the Bunshin no Jutsu go again? What were the steps? Step one was hand seals. What were the proper seals? Ram. Snake. Tiger.

Ram. Hands together, index and third finger straight up, left thumb sitting on the right.

Snake. Fingers interlocked and pressed together, left thumb sitting over the right.

Tiger. The same as Ram but with both thumbs straight up.

Good. Step two, think har-no, the physical… spiritual… erm... think hard. Think hard. Draw out the chakra. She could do it.

Step three…

"Naruko? Whenever you're ready." She flinched, surprised to find herself standing in front of the two teachers. Iruka stared at her impassively, his scarred face as grim as ever. Mizuki, in stark contrast to his opposite, had a small, encouraging smile on his face, his posture relaxed. Stars, even their hair stood apart as opposites: Iruka's a standard dark brown tied in a strict, tight ponytail, Mizuki's a calm blue, free flowing, shoulder-length cut casually parted from the middle, bangs hanging over his eyes.

She breathed, encouraged, and focused on Mizuki. She had a chance. She just had to do it.

Ram. Snake. Tiger. She could feel her chakra bubbling inside of her, like a well threatening to overflow with water.

Just grab it and…

A puff of smoke, and next to her was a copy of herself.

A colorless, motionless, prone-on the floor copy with its tongue hanging out.

"Haha… um…"

"Fail." Iruka didn't flinch.

Her stomach dropped. _No._

"Iruka…" Mizuki gave Iruka a sidelong glance. "It _is_ technically a clone. We could let this slide. She tried her best."

_Thank you Mizuki!_ She dared to hope.

"No." Iruka shook his head, firm. "Every other student managed to create at least two clones. Naruto did one, and a useless one at that. I won't let him pass."

_Won't let him pass._

Mizuki turned on his compatriot, frowning. "Come now Iruka, we've allowed students to pass before who couldn't perform ninjutsu at all. Why, just last year, we let that one boy- "

"Enough, Mizuki. You're dismissed Naruko."

She silently made her way back to the classroom. Iruka… why was it always Iruka? If she didn't know better, she would've guessed that he hated her. Mizuki said they passed students who couldn't even do _any_ ninjutsu, but with her, nothing was good enough. Ever. She stopped in front of the classroom's door, hand hovering over the doorknob. Should she even bother going back in? There was no reason to stick around, was there? Might as well leave. But before she could decide, the door pulled open from the other side.

"Naruko? Did you pass?" Ino asked, her pristine blue eyes inquisitive, but impatient. She was up next.

Naruko was keenly aware of the people in the class staring at her. "Bah! I was so amazing that stupid Iruka was jealous."

"Hah, really Naruko?"

"Yeah right. You failed!"

"I knew she'd fail! I told you!"

Naruko plastered a smile on her face and laughed. Laughed with the class.

At the class. The class laughed at her.

Time was a blur. She found herself sitting on a lonely swing, watching parents proudly clap their sons and daughters on the back. Her peers smiled right back at them, their new forehead protectors worn proudly, shining in the afternoon sunlight.

She sat alone in the shade.

"That's my son! A genin! I told you he was meant for great things!"

"What do you want for dinner Chouji? I'll cook it all!"

"My daughter, Hokage-sama! You'd better keep an eye on her! She'll have your job before you know it!"

_I should go home,_ she thought, fighting tears. Eat two packs of ramen. Use the sauce packet from a third. That wouldn't be so bad.

"Hey that girl… isn't that-"

"Yeah, that's her. She's the only one who failed."

"Good."

Every time. _Every time._ She cupped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. Did they think she couldn't hear them? Did they even care?

"I know. She's shouldn't be a shinobi anyway. She's a-"

"Shh. You know we can't."

"Why is she even still here? It's not like anyone's coming to pick her up."

Naruko stepped off the swing and left.

* * *

"Iruka…"

"Yes, Hokage-sama?"

Hiruzen spied a mess of red hair stumbling away, footsteps uneven. "We need to talk."

* * *

The longer Naruko walked, the better she felt. Who cared, anyway? She'd pass next year, for sure. She'd make a hundred, no, _two _hundred clones and make stupid Iruka so impressed he'd give her his own forehead protector and quit being a shinobi forever, because he knew he'd never measure up to her greatness. And then she'd pat him on the head, maybe give him a condescending smile, and promise him that she'd make sure he could still find work as her personal servant.

She was going to be Hokage someday, after all. A good Hokage wouldn't just throw her subordinates out into the street. She'd show them all.

_Yeah, that's her. The only one who failed._

_Good._

"Naruko!" a kindly voice called out to her.

"Mizuki-sensei!" _What is he doing here? Isn't the graduation ceremony still going on?_

The older man jogged over to her, his face concerned. "I saw you leaving. Are you okay?"

"I'm…" _fine_. She bit her lip, swallowing a lie. This was Mizuki. She didn't have to hide from him. "I don't know," she admitted.

He walked up to her and pressed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Come on, let's talk somewhere private. Follow me." A mischievous smile crawled across his face and he backflipped easily onto a nearby rooftop. "If you think you can keep up. I'd bet Iruka probably thinks you can't," he said teasingly.

He was trying to distract her by poking at her competitive weakness. And she took it willingly, hook, line and sinker. Naruko smiled a real smile, pulled a hairband off her wrist, tied her hair up, and jumped after him.

Mizuki wasn't just a teacher, but a chuunin, and deservedly so. His movements were nimble and quick as he leapt from building to building, his footsteps impossibly light despite being double her size. She quickly found herself gasping for air trying to keep up with his pace, her lungs begging for any sort of reprieve. It wasn't just that he was older, taller, stronger, or any of that. There was something else to his movements, something she couldn't put a finger on, that seemed to be buoying him physically, whereas she felt like she was just plodding after him in comparison, heavy legs churning furiously to keep up.

_He moves like a real shinobi. I want that too._

Mizuki eventually came to a graceful stop on sixth floor balcony of what Naruko assumed was an apartment building.

"Not bad, Naruko," he said.

Which felt like anything but a compliment to the red-head when she had her hands on her knees, unable to even muster a cohesive thought as she tried to catch her breath, but she couldn't help but smile anyway.

"Thank… _*huff*_... you."

"Are you okay?"

"I… I just… I just need… bug in my eyes… I mean, my throat..."

Mizuki gave her a knowing look. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh." Fun over. Naruko sobered quickly, the full weight of the day rushing back to her. Iruka. Unhappy feelings surged forward inside of her just thinking about her teacher. Some of it must have translated to her face, because Mizuki respectfully took a couple steps back before assuming a cross-legged position on the floor, his face full of understanding.

"You need to understand, that's just how Iruka is. He takes everything seriously."

"I know that, but…" Frustration, anger, disappointment, it all threatened to burst out in a surge of emotion. "But why?! Even you said I should pass! You told Iruka it was okay! Why does he always pick on me?! Why..." she fell silent, bottling up everything else she wanted to say, settling instead for an angry punch into the concrete pavement. "Why me?"

"That's enough, Naruko. Don't judge him too harshly." Mizuki leaned back against the railing, contemplative. "He lost both his parents when he was young. Younger than you are now. They were killed." Naruko stirred, but remained silent. "I think when he looks at you, he sees himself. He wants you to earn your way through with your own power and effort, not with a handout. He wants you to graduate for real."

Naruko frowned, thinking his words over. "I guess I could understand that," she admitted. "But… I really wanted to graduate." She looked down, idly watching villagers pass by on the streets below. "I don't want to be the only one left behind."

"Hmm," Mizuki hummed. "Normally, if we fail a student, he or she has to wait another year before applying again. But I can think of some loopholes."

"Really?!" Naruko leapt to her feet. "How? I'll do anything! What loopholes?! Does Iruka have to know?!" Before she could stop herself, she jumped forward and embraced him, her heart soaring.

Mizuki smiled warmly. "There are some perks to being a teacher you know. Iruka might act high and mighty, but he and I are equals, and I can graduate you if I think you've earned it. Now, listen closely."

* * *

Naruko's heart was thumping unnaturally loudly. At least, that's how it felt. Shinobi were trained in stealth, but she hadn't done so well in stealth training, among other things. She strained her ears in a futile effort to hear that stupid guard make any sort of noise. She'd seen him walk by twice without so much as a squeak from a loose floorboard. _Like a proper shinobi,_ she thought, annoyed.

It was no use. He'd catch her before she even realized he was nearby.

The room she was in was a library, the walls lined with scrolls of all shapes and sizes. According to Mizuki, the ticket to putting her on the road to becoming Hokage was in here.

_"There's a room in the Hokage's Residence where rare scrolls are kept. Some of these scrolls are the ones the advanced students in the Academy use to learn ninjutsu. If you can perform even one of those ninjutsu, we wouldn't have any choice but to graduate you. They're all far more difficult than the Bunshin no Jutsu."_

_"Are they that much harder?"_

_"You don't think you can do it?"_

_"I can do it! I'm just… preparing."_

_"Ha. I'll admit, I don't think even I could perform some of those jutsu. But if you could? Poor Iruka might have a stroke."_

"Ah!" Naruko exclaimed. "Ack!" She slapped a hand over mouth. Stealth. Quiet. Right. _Why am I so bad at this?_ She stayed still for what felt like an eternity, waiting for that ghost of a guard to appear in the doorway and bust her. He never came. Breathing a sigh of relief, she poked her head out of the room and looked both ways before slowly creeping down the hallway.

_"Once you get the scroll, find a window and wait."_

_"For what?"_

_"You'll see."_

Naruko didn't like mysteries. She was a straightforward person, and hated it when people weren't the same way.

_Look, it's her._

_Shh, she'll hear you._

_I don't know why they let that little monster walk around like a normal person._

In an adjacent room, a lonely window let in a beam of moonlight. She ducked into the near corner, sat, and waited for whatever cue Mizuki would give her. A sudden tapping noise seized her attention, and she beat down the urge to yelp. Where had that come from?

"Mi… Mizuki?" she whispered daringly. Was that him? She stared at the window, tense, holding her breath, when slowly, impossibly, the window opened on its own. That was undoubtedly his cue.

_Enough stealth._ She sprinted towards the open window, jumped through head-first, performed a nimble front flip, and landed gracefully two stories below. _Easy._ She was actually doing it. She was going to pull this off! Her heart filled with unbidden glee, she bounced away, heading for the village outskirts.

_"You'll need a private place to practice. I'll let you use my secret training spot."_

_"Really?! You have a secret training spot?!"_

_"Hey, hey, keep it down! It's a secret, remember?"_

After some time traveling, she found herself in a forest a good distance away from the village proper. As Mizuki had explained, there was an abandoned shack in an open clearing. She made her way to the center of the field. The moon was at its peak in the cloudless sky, illuminating the field in a way she found beautiful.

This was perfect.

She sat down and unfurled the scroll. It was lined with instructions, visual diagrams, and symbols she couldn't even pretend to recognize. The first technique listed was…

"The _Kage_ Bunshin no Jutsu?! Are you freakin serious?! This is gonna take me forever!"

_Stay away from that girl, sweetheart._

_Why?_

_Just do as mommy says. Don't talk to her. She's bad._

No. No, Mizuki picked this scroll for a reason. He probably knew this technique was the first one listed.

He believed in her. He knew she could do this.

She wouldn't let him down.


End file.
